The Scientific Method II

"So, Peter, what did you do for Halloween?"

"I performed several abortions and tried to perform several more. You?"

*retouches summer knowledge*

I am grinning. Plans are in motion now. I must memorize, analyze, and generally prepare. I still have a couple of weeks to ready myself, and then things turn interesting. Hopefully this won't screw up my college schedule too much (for the short term at least: if long term conflicts arise, the implications thereof will be enough for me to do whatever I need to to make things work out).

But I can't let myself be totally distracted: I still have a science packet to read.

:D

Welcome to the fold

...Gods below! I just realized I missed the spring play proposal meeting!

Anyhoo, we now have a 7th member of the party, Mishra* the psion. So now we have a third squishy-genius-caster. He's starting out a level behind the rest of us, but that's still enough to manifest 9th-level powers at this point. Clairsentience (divination-like) is his specialty, with some buffs and save-or-lose powers thrown in. Next meeting will be in a week and a half.

*Mishra is his name for the time being, but the DM wants him to come up with a name NOT ripped off from The Brothers' War.

The dice are broken!

My god, where to begin?

Friday's Session: We successfully resurrected the captain before returning to the ruins to check out what the lich wanted. In the gigantic room the lich was to enter were two iron colossi (golems on epic steroids). We found the control amulets to the colossi, but one was broken and we didn't want to risk trying to work the other. The flash of light when the lich died had, however, revealed something much nastier: an (unsure of spelling) Abucai Macabre, an ancient and very evil artifact-warship crewed by Demon Hearts and capable of taking down entire fleets of airships. This one however, has been disabled long ago by an airship that had been lucky enough to get in a crippling ramming attack with its mithril prow. Those in the party knowledgeable about such things insisted that we destroy it entirely. So we infiltrated it (not too hard, as the Demon Hearts appeared nonfunctional) until we reached the doors surrounding the core. The first one was heavily warded, but there was a stone tube leading through the wall which proved rather easy to destroy. Koslov (our wizard) sent another one of his constructs to pick the lock on the extremely heavily-warded inner door, and it was promptly fried by electricity (this happens a lot with hi constructs, which are growing more and more fearful of assignments). Obelix (our factotum--a skill-oriented do-anything type) managed to disarm the traps and open the door (dodging one last trap with a backflip that, due to being underwater, was in enforced slow motion) to the core of the ship. We placed a delayed shatter bomb on the elemental cores and beat a hasty retreat. One explosion and massive collapse later, the Abucai was destroyed. I brought the remaining colossus amulet to the captain, and that was destroyed too. We then agreed to his request to finish scouring the region of this undead plague.

Today's Session Prelude: The DM had informed me that we would be making greater use of our crew and that I, as their commanding officer, may want to stat them (to his guidelines, of course). I have officially become the go-to guy for rules and stat blocks, but I like the statting process. The marines were built to be absolutely vicious with the proper teamwork, and sergeant Meteledes, despite ranking below me, is more competent than I am in every way except killing stuff. Go figure.

Today's Session: Five main sources of necromantic energy were identified. Exploration of the first was rather uneventful. We found four evil-radiating vases in a shipwreck, which were placed in stasis chests, and we recovered a magical, food-spawning cabinet. The second required a trek into snowy mountains, and we brought the marines and Meteledes with us. Partway along, we were attacked by a half-dozen trolls, three of which were unusually large. Between the marines doing their job well and our archivist blasting them with a fire storm, we killed all the trolls without suffering a scratch. farther along, we came to three massive statues, where we were confronted by...a second lich. The lich wasted little time in dispelling the flesh to stone on the statues, revealing them to be three (weakened) titans. Koslov managed to put two of them to sleep immediately, and Aleistair took the fight to the lich, discovering the hard way that it was wearing a retributive amulet (reflecting half of Aleistair's damage). A mix of grappling from Koslovs constructs and his telekinesis and Aleistair's efforts brought the lich down to a more convenient range than atop a titan's head, and he and Obelix destroyed the amulet before resuming full attack on the lich. In the meantime, the marines and I saw signs of latent necrotic bombs in the sleeping titans and dispatched them while Meteledes (played by me) tried to convince the last titan (still recovering) to aid us against the lich. Long story short, we destroyed it without any deaths...except one: Zerin's (our cleric's) griffon. That poor thing was killed by a lich spell, incinerated by a flame strike, animated as a hellfire-covered zombie that attacked and carried Koslov into the air, turned into a live cat by Koslov, incinerated by its own hellfire, turned back into a griffon upon death, and dropped 80 feet to splatter on the ground. The two titans we killed were zombified along with the griffon, but they were easily re-killed. We saved the last titan and got some information about what had happened to it. We also found a similar box as the last one among the lich's remains. This time the commander promptly doused it with holy acid. 

Upon returning to the ship (and leveling up some more), we were informed that the necromantic auras in the region were starting to converge on site #3. Cue the lock and load montage, with lich loot being identified and distributed, and the casters preparing a new round of spells for the upcoming conflict. Archivist Missinget, having access to more and higher-level divine spells than our cleric, blanketed the party in enchantments to protect against and aid in the destruction of legions of undead of all shapes and sizes (as well as some area nukes), Koslov loaded up on various destructive and debilitating spells, and Zerin managed to cast a miracle to summon a solar, the most powerful class of angel there is and theoretically more powerful than any of us by a considerable margin. Once prepared, we flew to the mouth of the cave we were to besiege, the party, marines, and golems loaded into the scout ship (as the main ship couldn't get inside). The welcoming party of some four dozen zombie windghosts was wiped out by the solar's storm of vengeance. Just outside the cave we saw another giant statue (and knew of more inside, as well as the general layout). The solar insisted that all the giants be freed and restored this one. It promptly proved to be an eldritch giant (an evil) kind which blasted the party and crew with a powerful necromantic energy attack. The DM's cackling was cut short, however, when he realized that Missinget's spells absorbed the spell completely. The solar then shot the giant with an arrow of slaying, but it survived. This is where the dice started to break: the crew of the main ship unloaded their ballistas at the giant, and I swear every single attack was either a Natural 1 or a Natural 20. Our own scout ship was shot twice and the giant took three ballista bolts to the head. That killed it. Entering the cave complex proper, we found two more statues. Now wary, we asked the solar to use some divinations, and it determined one of the petrified giants to be evil. The golems smashed it. 

The party and Meteledes the entered the side cave near which the now-smashed giant stood. One of Koslov's iron ants, scouting ahead, uncovered yet another box like the ones we had found on the liches. Koslov put an antimagic field on his ant to suppress its wards, and I used my pick to break apart the box. The instant it was destroyed, four colossal tentacles shot out of an adjacent chasm, two of which grabbed me. Another grabbed Aleistar until he teleported away, and the last one grabbed the solar, which rolled unbelievably badly on its grapple check and was pinned. The party managed to damage the tentacles rather nastily, and Zerin sealed off the chasm with a blade barrier. Unfortunately, the blades barrier started dicing the solar as well as the tentacles. The solar tried to get off a disintegrate on a tentacle, but rolled a Natural 1 and hit Aleistair. Fortunately, Aleistair resisted the worst of it. Once it got to my turn, I finally got to show off what I could do with my pick in this campaign and rolled some berserk totals for attack and damage despite being grappled. Missinget blew apart the tentacle holding me with a destruction, and Koslove rendered the whole beast catatonic with a ray of stupidity. As it slid back into the chasm, Aleistair made it explode with fire...waking up those still below. Cue eight more tentacles shooting out of the chasm, although I managed to intercept and destroy three of them as they emerged, and the blades sliced the others considerably. The tentacles? Grabbed the solar again and dragged him down through the blades. Koslov used a limited wish to retrieve the solar, and when the tentacles pursued they finally shredded themselves against the blades. The solar's reaction? "I hate this world."

Further exploring that particular section of cave, we found a room containing three larger tanks and some cabinets full of alchemical items, which pleased Aleistair. Cue us being attacked by three lightning-throwing brains in jars in the tanks. Koslov proposed filling the room with a fireball and that we clear out. We did so, although Missinget lingered to carry out some of the alchemical containers on Aleistair's request (he didn't have time to do so himself). Cut the three maximized empowered fireball traps going off. Aleistair, being a devil, was immune, and Koslov and Obelix managed to evade the blasts entirely, but Zerin, Missinget, and I took a lot of fire damage, the flasks and whatnot exploded, nearly killing Missinget, the solar was knocked unconscious, and Meteledes botched all of his Reflex saves and was reduced to a neat pile of ash. Seconds later, we learned whether or not the first box we had destroyed was, in fact, the lich's phylactery. The answer: No. The lich, surprisingly, didn't attack immediately, started questioning us about or motives and actions. Not wanting to provoke it, we gave safe answers while Missinget and Zerin surreptitiously healed themselves and the solar. We then learned why the lich was engaging in conversation: it was stalling for its buddies to arrive. Total arrivals: 2 liches and a ghost.

Allistair charged the first lich, discovering yet another retributive amulet. I tried to sunder the amulet and got my pick's enhancements temporarily dispelled. The solar revived Meteledes, Missignet and Koslov used spells to little effect, and Obelix asked the ghost if it was friendly. The ghost responded by waving jauntily and throwing a disintegrate at Lich 1, but rolled a Natural 1 and hit Aleistair, who again saved. Koslov took a critical hit from a disintegrate but was saved by a healing contingency (note: My bad on anticipating our foes. I advised Missinget's player on her spell selection, and I was envisioning that we would be taking on armies of zombies, wraiths, etcetera, not a few liches. Thus, no spells were prepared to stop disintegrates.) Over the next couple of rounds, the ghost vanished, Zerin tried and failed to turn the liches, Koslov tried to hit a lich with an antimagic ray and had it bounce back at him (he resisted it), and he was hit by two more disintegrates. The first one he survived outright. The second one did enough damage to kill him, but half of it was diverted to his primary construct (the one the blew up against the zombie army, now revived), which promptly disintegrated. The solar was wholly worthless, getting knocked out again, and I'm pretty sure we rolled another few Natural 1s in those rounds. Missignet used a miracle duplicating an extremely enhanced holy word, which paralyzed the liches. The one next to Aleistair and me threw up a reflexive cube of force, but we didn't mind being trapped in an enclosed space with a paralyzed creature not known for physical resilience...until both liches switched their bodies with random skeletons and vanished, leaving behind the cube (Aleistair teleported out, but I was stuck until Koslov dispelled it) and a blanket of magical silence. Now, with my character  struck mute and trapped behind an invisible wall, I could not resist the urge to do a mime impression. I got slapped for that.

Now the battle was over...until a ghost-possessed Meteledes blasted Koslov with a fourth disintegrate, finally turning him into a pile of dust (I'm rather surprised that it took this long to lose a PC, considering what we've been fighting). Aleistair attacked Meteledes, as due to Missinget's buffs he could simultaneously attack the ghost. The ghost failed against a disruption effect, and Meteledes suffered a crit: both were promptly killed. The solar revived Meteledes (again), but couldn't revive Koslov. I suppose we will learn why next time. Our characters reboarded the ship and decided to fall back and regroup, although I was strongly in favor of collapsing the whole complex with a miracle-enhanced earthquake. Back in the real world, we nearly killed the DM for hitting an 18th-level party with what was revealed upon interrogation to be a level 29 encounter (the solar was meant to even the odds, and then it ended up rolling so hideously we banned the DM from using his online dice roller). For some perspective, had he been playing the two liches and the ghost to their full lethal potential, they would likely have TPK'd (Total Party Kill) a party capable of taking on creatures likely to TPK us.

Lessons learned today:

1. Prepare spell immunity (disintegrate).
2. Invest in more divinations.
3. Kill first, talk later. 
4. Prepare resistances to all energy types, not just necromantic stuff.
5. Check enemies for amulets and destroy those first.
6. Trust nothing jaunty.
7. Trust nothing, period.

Erm...yikes.

I'm thinking that my character's mental ability scores (high Intelligence, low Wisdom) are a good match for my own.

This session started up right after we destroyed the lich. Being the crusaders for truth and justice that we are, our first thought was, "did it drop any loot?" Checking its remains turned up robes, a staff, a crown, a book (all of them registering as magical), and a mithril, runecarved box. Naturally, we all thought, "phylactery!*" The wizard tried to detect magic (got nothing) and then dispel magic (bounced back on him). At this point I rumbled, Gimli-esque, "well, what are we waiting for?" And had Allistair (the devil) not won initiative and tangled my pick in his rope, I would have indeed taken a swing at it (the DM later told me that I would probably have gotten the Gimli re-enactment in full). Someone else in the party (I forget who) tried opening it, but Allistair kicked the lid shut immediately. Good thing he did, because I (the player, not the character) correctly guessed what was on the inside: a Mirror of Opposition (magic item that creates a murderous clone of you). At this point we decided to take it back to the ship for analysis and destruction. Returning to the water's surface, we found the ship under attack by huge, flying zombie beasties (more of the windghosts we met in the first session). We finished them off (lost a few crew members in the process), and presented the box we suspected to be a phylactery to the captain, who agreed that it was certainly dangerous. The wizard crafted a timed disintegrate bomb, and we took it onto one of the icebergs to set it off. The spell bounced, and the box sprouted legs and started running away. The devil and the wizard quickly recovered it, the devil holding it on the way back. By the time they returned to the ship, Allistair had a bit/lot of a "my precious" mentality about the box. We tried to talk him into letting go of it. He repeatedly refused and tied it to his waist. Here's where my low wisdom kicks in (not counting the Gimli moment, which was intentionally so). I (via a telepathic conference with the officers and the rest of the party) decided that Allistair had to be restrained and the box forcibly removed from him. Cue the wizard hitting him with Otto's Irresistible Dance and the cleric and me trying to grapple him. Not only did we roll horribly, but a couple dozen clones of Allistair suddenly appeared on the deck, mimicking his movements. After a few rounds passed, during which I tried and failed to sunder his rope, the archivist was hit with some voice-wrecking effect, Allistair kept asking what in the Nine Hells was going on, and we had a flood of out-of-character debates about the rules and real-world naval law, we backed off and tried diplomacy again...until the discussion was cut off by one of the clones backhanding the captain overboard. Fatally. They then ordered us all to turn the ship around, head home, leave the box, and leave Allistair. In the ensuing quasi-schizophrenic conversation, Allistair began to warm up to the idea that the box wasn't so nice after all...until his clones possessed him en masse and forced him to flee with the box. The ship's commander and the archivist tagged him with wand blasts, but to little effect. Here's where my intelligence kicks in. I suggested the cleric (remember when I said we had a paladin? He's a cleric now) cast a small miracle to throw an antimagic field around the box. The result? *KA-BOOM* No more box, no more possession. Hopefully, that was the phylactery. The session ended with a very battered devil under arrest and attempts being made to resurrect the captain. The DM said that we had defied his expectations at every turn.

*If the word is foreign to you, it's basically a Horcrux. If you don't read Harry Potter, a phylactery is a lich's key to immortality. If you kill the lich but don't destroy the phylactery, the lich comes back.

Schemes

Our DM has recommended that we each stat a "backup" character in case of current character deaths (which, given the power of the lich we took out, are looking not unlikely). The second wave, as it were, consists of a tank-heavy knight, a rogue about whom we don't know much, as the DM has been helping stat it (this is the backup character of our new-to-the-game archivist), a warlock who uses hellfire for good ends, a paragon-of-virtue monk who excels at punching evil in the face, a doesn't-know-what-yet-but-will-probably-be-a-dragonfire-adept...and me. I have been extremely tight-lipped with the rest of the party about my next character; all they know is that I will be some sort of magic-user. What the DM knows is that I will be playing a binder/ur-priest (basically hanging a sign around my neck that reads, "Burn me as a heretic!") who is not only evil (no, I'm not planning to kill the others), but undead. Fortunately, all my robes are lead-lined (to block divinations), I'm good with disguises (and one of my abilities can make me even better with them), being undead makes me immune to most forms of domination (unless they target undead specifically), and I'm an excellent liar, so I should be able to keep my secrets for some time. In terms of what I bring to the table, I can cast spells both of the healing and painful death varieties (I'm very good at the latter), and my powers as a binder make me insanely versatile. The downside? I'm weak of arm, I'm easy to hit unless I fortify myself with spells, and I have the agility of a cow. It should be a fun character to play once my fighter keels over.

Sick, yet hilarious. Like most things hilarious.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fcbazH6aE2g

D'oh! *yawn*

O Fortuna on the alarm clock + forgetting about Daylight Savings Time = bad.

EDIT: Apparently it isn't DST yet; my clock is just sadistic.

Oh...ah!

Interesting developments have come to my attention. Interesting possibilities. I mustn't get my hopes up, but there is definitely work to do. I have people to contact. Information to gather. Probably a headshot to arrange.

Whyyy?

Tonight's session was very eventful. While exploring the underwater laboratories, we found a large group of iron golems, complete with control amulets. Right on cue, we get news from the surface of an impending army of underwater zombies. After a brief scuffle while retreating into the siege vaults, sacrificing the wizard's construct companion to blow up an undead aboleth, and having the iron golems seal the doors to buy us some time, we retreated deeper toward the vaults. I would like to note that I wasn't rolling too well, getting a natural 1 on a pick attack and clipping myself, and doing fairly poorly with some saving throws. After getting some distance, the doors were smashed open and we were surrounded by zombified sharks and their commander: a lich. The lich declared its intent to retrieve something from the vaults and started walking that way, stopping only to respond to an ineffective disintegrate spell with a blast that killed most of the men accompanying us and nearly took out the wizard. After slaughtering the sharks and quickly healing, we determined that risking death to destroy the lich was preferable to letting it get away with...whatever it wanted. Shortly thereafter, a lucky roll from the archivist stunned the lich long enough for our melee specialists to surround it and the wizard to give them all a mass bull's strength spell. At this point, I launched a series of attacks against the lich, each packing about as much damage as could be expected from all but the most dangerous spells in the party's arsenal. I rolled...two Natural Ones in a row. The lich escaped unharmed and I cleaved off nearly a third of my own health. Fortunately, the rest of the party did quite well in the following turn, the devil hitting with every single attack, the paladin smiting evil, and the archivist hitting with a bolt of glory for over 100 damage. The lich blew back the melee-ers, but one more bolt of glory (the archivist's last high-level spell) just barely connected, and the lich was destroyed. Thus ended the session.

The DM, after informing us that he did not expect us to chase the lich or to survive if we did chase it. He also told us all to go up three levels, which means that my character is leveling up three times for hitting himself three times. On the plus side, I did get to massacre some zombie in the first half.

Muahaha!

I just got back from helping to stat our new archivist. Still some work to do, but it was a delicious experience. The DM and I popped in on the other players just to laugh evilly.

Oh, and when Kosov is done enhancing some of my stuff, I will be very scary indeed. At least, as scary as a straight fighter can be in 3rd Edition. Blasted quadratic wizards.

The plot thickens

Today started out as the ranger and paladin getting some help from me in terms of stat-tweaking their characters, and then we shifted back to the actual game. Things were...interesting, to say the least. The paladin brought to the attention of the party news of a possible mole on board. Sharing of backstories turned up nothing suspicious among us. Investigations of the crew turned up suspicions on an ensign whose father opposed the society that sent us on this expedition and the head doctor. After interrogating the ensign to no result, I was struck by a mysterious hunch to search the doctor's room, which turned up evidence that she was a worshipper of a drow goddess. One thing led to another until we had the wizard's spider construct shadowing her and at one point attempting to charm her in preparation for questioning. When the commander got wind of all this, he was...not happy with me, although he wasn't aware of my full involvement (rolled surprisingly well with my Bluff check), and ordered all investigations against the doctor to cease. The wizard was summoned to speak with the captain alone, and when he returned, he brought an unexpected guest: the doctor under the effect of dominate person. We questioned her until a contingency spell of hers rendered her comatose, at which point the wizard returned her to her room and erased all incriminating memories. The devil missed out on most of this, as he was off succumbing to his hedonistic tendencies.

note: The DM stated that this escapade was not very alignment-healthy, although nobody actually got nailed.

In terms of the underwater exploration mission, we have found a some sealed siege laboratories which the crew is working on peeling open. In the meantime, we have discovered considerable amounts of loot in the armory and war museum, most of which goes to the Atherton Society, and I am becoming a veritable wall of weapons: I had part of my magical (and enchanted to be invisible) mithril supply forged into weapons following the design of those found on the corpses of soldiers aboard the demon heart ship. My arsenal consists of a pick (my weapon of choice), a spiked shield, armor spikes, a longbow, a blackjack, a silver dagger, and now a wrist-mounted repeating mini-crossbow and a retractable, wrist-mounted, invisible short sword. Life is good. Also, the devil has expressed an interest in getting some of that mithril for similar weapons. We have yet to come to an arrangement. *signs off*

*signs back on as Columbo* One more thing: as of next session we will have one more player. Fortunately, she will be playing a divine spellcaster, a nice that isn't really filled yet. Somewhat...less fortunate is the identity of her character: the doctor and archivist we stalked, dominated,  interrogated, and hit with amnesia. Things will be very interesting.

A true D&D experience

We started the meeting at 4 and ended at 1. That is how you play Dungeons and Dragons.

The skyberg we smashed open last session turned out to be leaking a potentially endless supply of demon blood, resulting in us PCs having to trek inside the skyberg and destroy the Demon Heart generating it. We did so, in the process retrieving several magical artifacts (not with a capital Artifacts, just items of considerable interest and probably value) and nearly getting pulverized by a demon-tainted elder omni-elemental. Having a heavily-armed airship allowed us to fight it off in a battle peppered both by events such as the crew nailing an air elemental to an iceberg with a ballista, an earth elemental giving a water elemental a Fastball Special to our airship, me cleaving said water elemental in half on its arrival, and the devil teleporting into a fire elemental to kill it from the inside, and by a string of such hideous rolls (resulting in multiple cannons nearly blowing open other potentially demon-containing skybergs, our ranger shooting the devil for maximum damage, and a ballista clipping me) that the others want to get dice that are not mine as soon as possible. Also, the crew was almost as good at taking orders as the two guards in Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

Long story short, we destroyed the demon heart, killed the elementals, lost several crew members, had so put the scouting ship in for repairs, and made off with some interesting relics. My quarters, for example, now contain a demon-tainted, transparent mithril door. The wizard dispelled most of the taint, but it still has a tendency to curse me out.

After stopping to repair the scout ship and mine some coldfire orbs, we arrived at the submerged city we were sent to explore. So far the scientists are conducting their research and nothing has leapt out of the ruins to eat us. There were some things tracking us for a few days, but then they vanished. We discovered some interesting magical devices clearly used for combat training purposes, and we appropriated some of this magic to allow the paladin and me to have a no-holds-barred duel for the benefit of the crew. It is a good thing that we had non-lethal duplicates of our weapons for this duel, as I tore the paladin apart in two rounds.

Now that we've had a couple sessions to see how everything works, here is what the party members bring to the table:

• Allistair (the devil): Knowledge on matters old and arcane, mobility, being FREAKING UNTOUCHABLE (very high saves, and Armor Class is a 39!). The downside? He has the lowest hp and attack bonus of the melee specialists.
  
• Kosov (the wizard): Crafting constructs, weapons, and armor, enchantments, generally being a genius. The downside? He's squishy (naturally: he's a wizard) and can't do much against foes immune to mind-affecting attacks.
  
• "Batman" (the ranger): Archery, scouting, generally being a skill monkey. The downside? His damage output is low and he is probably the second most fragile overall.
  
• I-forgot-his-name (the paladin): Healing and buffs, a griffon companion, ability to inflict lots of damage against evil (and absolutely hideous damage against fiends (glances at Allistair, who I might remind you is not personally evil)). The downside? Doesn't excel in any area of combat the way the others do, and not much in skills.
  
• Hornethand (me, the fighter): Knowledge on matters war- and tactics-related, holding rank on the ship, and being an absolute beast in melee (second-highest Armor Class, highest attack, damage, and HP). The downside? I'm pretty lame at whatever I didn't list as a strength, and I need a wisdom transplant (Intelligence is actually fine).
  

All in all, the campaign is off to a good start. Now I need to catch up on sleep.

Weather update

 California is getting what right now? Overcast skies? Maybe a bit of drizzle?

We're getting lightning and hail.

The D&D campaign has begun

At last!

It's a 10th-level campaign. The party consists of a griffon-riding paladin, a chaotic good erinyes devil (with some modifications to fit the ECL*), an enchanter who sounds like Sean Connery, a low-wisdom-but-very-tankish fighter serving as a lieutenant commander (that's me), and an archery-focused Batman (or as close to Batman as one will get in D&D). We are currently on an airship reconnaissance mission (upon which I am said lieutenant commander), and in the first session we have had to fight off a pair of zombified windghosts, one of which ate the erinyes, who proceeded to cut and burn his way out. Unfortunately, one of the cannons on the airship has blasted open a skyberg containing a Demon Heart-powered construct. We'll find out how that goes next session.

*The devil was initially obscenely powerful, but then I explained the ECL rules to the guy helping to stat this character, resulting in considerable nerfs and my title of "Rules Lawyer Bitch Bitch Bitch Nazi Bitch."

Beating a dead horse for 1d6+1 per round

The campaign starts in an hour and a half, and I'm feeling a tad bored, so I'm going to go through Dark Dungeons and take it apart panel by panel. Yes, I already know that I'm late and that Jack Chick is a moron. I'm just doing this to kill time and hopefully entertain.

Panel 1: Hoo boy. Two speech bubbles and already Jack has shown us three mistakes. First, the DM should have said, "Okay, wizard, it's your turn." Not only do DMs not dicate players' actions, but how do we know that the wizard wasn't going to throw a quickened spell in on the side? Second, as far as I know, there is no spell that causes blindness without a saving throw aside from power word, blind, and that is not a "spell of light" (not to mention that the odds of getting your hands of a scroll of a seventh-level spell in an eighth-level party are pretty low. Third, "spell of light?" There are only several dozen and then some light-based spells in existence. You're gonna need to be more specific. (Not an error per se, but you would think the player would also be more specific than "the monster.")

Panel 2: Killing the PC by fiat? Bad DM! Now, had it been a trap of power word, kill that would have been acceptable by the rules, but it was specifically labeled as a poison trap. No attack roll? No Reflex save? No Fortitude save? No rolling of Constitution damage (Sure, there are a few instant-kill poisons out there, but the other points still stand)? As for BLACK LEAF?!? I'm not even going to bother going there. But I will take a look at the response: "Marcie, get out of here! YOU'RE DEAD! You don't exist anymore!" Perhaps you've forgotten, Mr. Chick, that D&D is a social game. Death is not an excuse to kick a player out. Marcie would either be rolling up a new character or waiting for somebody to cast raise dead. Mr. Chick has also forgotten how much of a revolving door D&D death has.

Panel 3: As for the idea of D&D teaching real-world spellcasting, I have only this to say: if that were remotely possible, gamers would have conquered the world long ago. Either that or blown it up by mistake. Oh, and qualifying by virtue of her cleric being 8th level? What's up with that? You would think that the bar would at least be at a point where on gains access to a new levels of spells ingame, but 8th is a rather boring level for clerics. Unless you're really excited about being able to turn that wight. Then again, the line "you have the personality for it now" could be interpreted as a reference to the 8th-level ability score increase being put into Charisma...if I had the slightest suspicion that Jack knew the rules that well.

Panel 4: "Priestess" and "witch" are NOT synonymous. Assuming that he is using witch as the female equivalent of wizard, they don't even cast from the same family of spells. And there is no way that Debbie is multiclassing already.

Panel 5: Okay, this one's rather boring. All I can do here is say, "First spell (i.e. first-level spell)? REAL POWER? Don't make me laugh. Sure, any spellcasting beats no spellcasting, but still: fear my COLOR SPRAY!"

Panel 6: *sigh* There is no "mind bondage" spell. Perhaps you meant, charm person?

Panel 7: Only $200? That's no min/maxer mentality, Debbie. If you're going to use Enchantment (Charm) [Mind-Affecting] spells on your family members to make them carry out your will, you might as well go all out.

Panel 8: You are playing by yourself. Um, no. I doubt the DM is invisible. Also, since there are no other players at the table, you won't make anyone wait by talking to Marcie. It's not like the Zombie (inexplicably captialized) is going anywhere. But most egregiously: you are playing an 8th-level cleric (probably higher by now), and you're having trouble with a ZOMBIE? Black Leaf probably would have done better in the coven.

Panel 9: Again, see my note on revolving door D&D death and player response.

Panel 10: Hooray for narm!

Panel 11: No, it's not your fault Black Leaf died. See my note about poor trap implementation on the part of the DM.

Panel 12: You won't be keeping many players around with an attitude like that.

Panel 13: See my note on bad DM-ing. Again. And regarding the law of your faith, I'd say that using...ahem...mind bondage is treading the line.

Panel 14: Nothing to say here, except that Jack has totally undermined himself. But we knew that already.

Panel 15: And heeere comes the DMPC to save the day!

Panel 16: How, may I ask, do you know what she's involved in? Did you cast scrying?

Panel 17: "Dungeon of bondage." Cute.

Panel 18: *British accent* We have found a gamer! May we burn her?

Panel 19: Interesting that we only see one person coming forward. In fact, the folks in the background look downright bored.

Panel 20: Huh. She thinks the PHB has more influence than the DM? Hasn't she ever heard of Rule Zero?

Panel 21: One last thought: This guy is calling upon a divine power to achieve supernatural results with the assistance of verbal and somatic components. Not unlike the manner in which D&D clerics cast spells...

Audition news

Auditions for Little Shop of Horrors are tomorrow, and I definitely want to get cast as the dentist, both for enjoyment and the fact that it looks like my best vocal fit. But I need to work on a song, and pick it fast. Les Miz has been disallowed, and I can't do Phantom at audition levels, so that leaves me with Urinetown. But what to sing? "Mr. Cladwell'' is probably my strongest, but it goes into a choral section early on. "Cop Song" is more of a patter song than melodic. "Don't Be The Bunny" is solid and entirely solo, but it feels a bit too methodical for an Orin audition song. "Snuff That Girl" has the perfect feel, but the second verse is sung by a girl, so I don't know if the director would mind me choosing that song.

Scratch "Cop Song." It's the one with which I'm least lyrically familiar, and it doesn't show off my singing ability as much as the others.

Scratch "Mr. Cladwell." The director might want me to keep singing when the chorus comes in, and it doesn't feel quite character-appropriate.

Snuff or bunny? Hmmm... Snuff is more energetic, but bunny is more sadistic. I'm more familiar with bunny, and I don't have to gender-bend any verses...

Don't Be the Bunny it is. Now I should really get a good night's sleep.

Creepypasta

It's been forever since I've written anything, but reading some creepypasta collections inspired me to try a few of my own.

A Chat Over Dinner

If you are the type who eats out regularly, one day a stranger might join you at the table. This stranger will always appear to be of your age and sex, and he (if it is a he) will only appear if you are alone. No matter what style of restaurant it is, he will always be carrying his own plate of food.

After a few seconds, he will look directly at you and say, “You seem like an interesting person. May I know you better?” Say yes, and he will begin to ask you questions about yourself in between bites. These questions will be innocuous enough at first: what your name is, what you do for a living, and so forth, but should you open your mouth to answer, you will be forced to tell the truth, even if you do not consciously know what the truth is. Remain silent, and the stranger will scowl at you, pick up his plate, and leave. You will never see him again. If you do indulge his questions, however, they will grow darker and darker as the food leaves his plate, and it will become harder and harder to resist answering. Do not attempt to leave the table before he does under any circumstances.

When his plate is clean, he will stand up to leave, but not before asking you one last, irresistible question: “What would drive you to take your own life?” You will instantly be aware that you will be able to lie in response to this one question, and I suggest you do, for whatever you describe will come to pass within the week. Those who are canny may use this chat to gain whatever they desire, but know that if the happenstance you name does not drive you to suicide, the stranger will start guessing as to what will. And consider how much he now knows about you.

The Childish Instinct

            Everybody knows that children possess the instinct close their eyes when afraid. They think that if you can’t see it, it can’t see you. Everybody also knows that this is hogwash. Except when it isn’t.

            The next time you are looking into darkness, or perhaps the time after that, a pair of eyes may open in the black, even if you know they couldn’t be there. These eyes, large and inhuman, will fill you with a terror you have not felt since you were a child who just learned about the monsters waiting in the closet. Do not make eye contact. The instant you look directly at it, it will know. Remain still and silent until they are gone. If you are in bed you might risk slowly pulling the covers over your head, but do not make eye contact.

            If the darkness in which you see the eyes is that of your own closed eyelids, opening them will not save you.

Pop-Up

            There is a certain page on the Internet. Nobody knows when it was created, and nobody ever comes across it by looking. If you find it, a pop-up window will appear. The window will display an eyeless, black-and-white face a few strands of hair and a plaintive smile. Should you see this face, immediately type, “I like you.” Punctuation and capitalization are not so important, but don’t go out of your way to be sloppy. Do this and the words, “I like you, too” will flash across your screen. The pop-up will then vanish. This is the only way to get rid of it. Otherwise the face will follow you from page to page. Even if you turn off the computer, the pop-up will still be there, and the more you try to get away from the face, the more its expression will shift to a hideous frown. The worst possible thing you can do is to leave your computer while the pop-up remains. It will appear on whatever surface you look at next, its grimace filled with teeth. The last thing you ever see will be the face opening its mouth.

Reflection

            For some time, there lived a certain man in eastern Washington named Sheldon. Every day he woke up, ate breakfast, attended his mindless job, came home, and slept. He had no friends, for he never bothered to make any. The only thing at all interesting about Sheldon was his bathroom, or rather the mirror in it. The mirror took up an entire wall from ceiling to floor. Even the sink had been fixed as a standalone structure to keep the mirror unbroken.

            One morning—who knows which morning it was?—Sheldon noticed that he had never seen himself smiling in the mirror. It was not that he was particularly depressed, but he thought that he would have smiled at his reflection at least once. He pondered this for a moment, then shrugged and continued his day.

            When Sheldon came home that afternoon he felt a need to relieve himself. While washing his hands, he glanced at his reflection again and was taken aback to see that his face had settled into a rather unnerving frown, almost as if he were disgusted with himself.

            A few more days passed, and Sheldon could not help but notice that he looked unhappier and unhappier every time he looked in the mirror, even if he didn’t feel it. Soon he grew to hate his reflection unreasonably. He began to have nightmares about being stalked by a shadowy version of himself, face perpetually twisted in rage.

            On the fifth straight night of screaming himself awake, Sheldon dashed into the bathroom and hit the light switch, staring wildly into the mirror and grabbing his cheeks, forcing himself to grin. All he got in return was the same glower as in his dreams. Without even thinking, Sheldon slammed the mirror with his fist. Cracks spread, and as they did, Sheldon gasped in pain. He looked at his hand to see a network of cuts opening cross it. Within seconds the mirror was crisscrossed with fractures, as was Sheldon’s body. He collapsed, blood-soaked. The Sheldon in the mirror did not.

            The dying man stared into the mirror as a hand identical to his started brushing away fragments of glass, creating an ever-widening hole. A moment before Sheldon’s body fell apart, he saw his reflection smile for the first time.

            Sheldon’s co-workers have noticed how much more interesting he is nowadays, and they are starting to feel rather dull by comparison. A few have not smiled for almost a week.

Don’t Think

            Everybody has a thought that accompanies his or her death. This thought is different for each person. And the laws of the universe dictate that this thought must always go hand in hand with death. If you discover what your death-thought is before your time, not only will you fall dead on the spot, but the universe will also make sure you suffer eternally for trying to cheat it. There is no way to know what your death-thought is without thinking it. So don’t think. Don’t think of anything. Just hope that you die before your mind crosses that invisible line.

The Photograph Pile

A young girl walking home from school found a small pile of Polaroid photos lying in the gutter. There were twenty in all, neatly wrapped in a rubber band. She picked them up, and as she walked she started to browse. The first photo was that of a ghostly white man on a black background, standing just far enough away from the camera that she couldn’t make out his features. The girl slid the photo to the back of the stack and looked at the next one. The photo was of the same man now standing a bit closer.  The girl flipped through the next several photos quickly. With each one the man in the picture came a bit closer and his features were a bit clearer. Turning the last corner to her house, the girl noticed that the man in the photos seems to be looking at her even when she moved the stack from side to side. It frightened her, but she kept flipping them over, one by one. By the nineteenth picture, the man was so close his face completely filled the frame. His expression was the most horrifying the girl had ever seen. Walking up the driveway, she turned to the last photo. This time, instead of an image, there were two words: “Close enough.” Hearing a scream, the girl’s brother rushed to the door and opened it. All he saw was a pile of photographs lying on the doorstep. The top one looked like an extremely pale version of his sister, but she was standing too far back for him to be sure.

Passing Silence

            Two months ago I visited my aunt in the Midwest. She greeted me at the airport and gave me a lift back to her house. The drive was around ninety minutes, which we spent chatting about this and that. As we walked from the car toward her house I noticed that her voice, and indeed the various background noises sounded a bit fainter than before. When I remarked upon this, my own voice was fainter still. I wondered for a moment if I had started to develop a hearing problem, but this though was driven away when my aunt went pale and uttered, “Oh, God, not now!” By now any noise was barely more audible than a whisper. She rushed me inside, locked the door behind, drew the shutters, and motioned urgently that we were to get under the kitchen table—for now the air was completely silent. Not a second after we had done so, the house darkened significantly, and it shook lightly every few seconds. This went on for five whole minutes until light and sound began to return to normal, and another ten minutes before my aunt would budge from under the table. For the rest of my visit she refused to speak of what had happened.